Jessica Scott

In the last two days, I’ve had two people say that I expect other people to raise my kids for me because I’m in the military. Those words hurt and they offended me deeply.

But they are also somewhat true, to an extent. In my family, as many families with both parents working, there is no one to pick up the slack. One family member commented on how wrong I was to say that my kids stressed me out and stressed out my husband. But said family member has never had to deploy away from his kids for a year and then come home and actually stick around for the rebuilding process.

Yesterday also marked the 6 month mark since my husband and I came home from Iraq. Maybe it was fitting that these comments were made. Maybe they were the harsh truth that I was supposed to hear.

I’m a military mom and like all military moms, whether single, divorced, married to another service member or married to a civilian, I need help. I have my best friend here who can pick up the kids if there’s an issue and she knows she can count on me. What life would she have if she were not in the military, working to give her kids a better life? What life would I have if I wasn’t here, working to give my kids a better life than I had. I don’t want someone else to raise my kids, but I do need help, just like every working mom needs help.

There are milestones I’ve missed and moments I will never get back. But the thing that I got back today was a sense of enjoyment of my kids when I watched my kindergartener walk across the stage and graduate. Now it was only a kindergarten graduation but regardless of what you making a big deal out of every milestone, this was a big deal for my husband and I. We sat and watched out little girl who we’ve seen grow up via webcam sing on the stage and wave shyly at us from the crowd.

Today was a big deal because we struggled through a rough 6 months, learning to be a family again. And today marked a huge milestone because we were there for her finish kindergarten, even if we weren’t there for her first day of school.

There have been days over the last few months where I wished I didn’t have housework and dishes and crying kids to deal with. There were days when I could honestly admit that my kids caused me more stress than pleasure.

But today, when I hugged my little girl and felt the pride in her that she struggled through to be reading above her grade level, that she struggled through making new friends in a big school with new teachers to actually enjoy going to school every day, today, everything was ok.

Today, we were a family and we were together for a milestone.

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When you get home from deployment, the army sends you through all this reintegration training. Some of it is worthwhile, a lot of it is a waste of time and even more is a check the block exercise. I understand the intent behind it, but frankly, I didn’t need or want most of it. There was, however, one class that I really got a lot out of and it was taught by the chaplains. They discussed reintegrating with your families and I paid attention because honestly, I’ve been worried about reuniting with my kids.

They talked about expectations and reactions and how you and they are different now than when you left home. I knew all this but still I paid attention. There was a lot of anticipation within me about seeing the kids and getting my family back together.

I thought I was prepared.

So when we’re in the middle of a busy rest stop in New Jersey last night and my youngest starts crying out of the blue, I wasn’t prepared to hear why she was upset. She had real, painful tears, the kind of crying that sounded like her little heart hurt. When I asked her what was wrong, she sobbed “I don’t think you love me.”

It was not a fake cry. It wasn’t a cry for attention. And I had no idea how to react. Instantly, I started crying. In the middle of a rest stop, with people wondering what the heck was going on, I was trying to get my oldest’s coat on her while trying to get my youngest to understand that I did love her and I did miss her.

My husband freaked out when he walked up and saw me and our youngest both in tears. My oldest rested her head on my shoulder and told me she knew I loved her. But none of that helped until I could make my youngest understand.

It was a brutal episode and one I did not expect. They tell you about the babies not knowing you or your grade school kids wanting to talk incessantly but nothing prepared me for my 3 year old’s confusion and true heartache.

It’s better today. She’s back to normal and so am I but the pain from last night lingers. So today, I’m hugging both of them more and telling them I love them. I’d already been doing that but apparently, it wasn’t enough to make up for a year of no hugs and no up close I love yous. The web cam was good but it wasn’t enough.

I don’t know if I can ever make up  for being gone to either of them. I don’t know what else is coming.

And I don’t know that I’m prepared to deal with it.

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After 2 days of travel, finally made it home to Maine. Kids are amazing and so different, it’s not even funny. Will post more when I’m not emotionally drained but wow, it’s good to be home. Everything smells so clean and fresh and good here. And I won’t even start on how much the girls have changed but will post more some other time. Thanks to everyone who wished us well! More soon!

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Why on earth would I make a comparison like that? Does that mean the army is like prison? Absolutely not! I love the army and am proud to be a part of something like the history we’re building here. However, comma, there are some striking similarities between being deployed to Iraq and prison.

First: no family. Which means no distractions. No laundry, no dishes to wash, no dog to walk. You go to work, you go home. There’s nothing to do but work out, go to work, and sleep. As in prison, Iraq is a good time to get some college work done as there is no reason why a good distance learning class can’t take up at least part of your day.

Finally, Iraq is like prison because you can’t leave. Oh you might want to. You’ll make plans for all the things you’ll do when you get home, but ultimately, you’re here for a set period of time and you’re not going anywhere. And if you screw up and get fired and sent to another unit, you’re going to be here even longer. 

So a word to the civilians out there: Iraq is a time for soul searching, for getting to know God but more importantly for getting to know yourself. You learn what’s really important over here. Family. Time. Those are the things that Iraq takes away from you. But we are part of something larger than ourselves and what we are doing over here is critically important for the success and safety of our nation.

So thank a soldier tonight when you can hug your kids and know they won’t get blown up by an IED on their way to school. Try not to get frustrated when you’re standing in line at the grocery store, getting food for your family. 

Try to remember what’s really important.

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So my family and I are somewhere outside Knoxville, getting ready to cut across North Carolina on the way to MomMom and PopPop’s house up in Delaware on the first stop in the drop the kids and pets off for the year. 

I have to say, this has been the most relaxing trip we’ve taken so far. The kids have been angels and even the psycho cat hasn’t been that annoying and I cannot honestly recall when I’ve been this patient. It sucks that I can’t be like this all the time… Anyway, I’m keeping my mind busy and trying not to think about next Friday (The Departure) when the year away from the kids and pets and home officially begins. I’m trying to figure out how to post the donut of despair up on my website, so you all can count down with me. Otherwise, just ready to get started so I can get it over with already.

That’s all for now!

Jess

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So I’m a few weeks out from deploying to Iraq. Guess how I choose to spend my last few weeks with my kids: fighting about food. We’re on day four of my oldest’s hunger strike. She has to eat at least one bite of the food we put in front of her or she doesn’t eat.

She’s opted not to eat. The thing is, she’s soo stubborn. I honestly think I might lose this battle, but I’m afraid if I cave in now that I’ve started, it will be over for the rest of her life.

Anyone got any tips? I’d love to break this stalemate and get back to enjoying our time together. My biggest worry is that I’ll die in Iraq and my daughter will remember me as the evil mommy who tried to make her eat pizza (yes, the child won’t even eat pizza!)

Suggestions welcome!

Later
Jess

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